Queen of Persia ✔️

iii. night three

Tonight, wasn't the night for stories. Tonight, was the night of the end. The end of everything Parisa had sacrificed herself for. And as for the story of Alibaba, well that story will be ending too. Every story has its ending, whether it's good or bad, it ends. Tonight, Parisa didn't wait for the Shah to arrive. She didn't want him to arrive. She wanted to see dawn, and its beautifully magnificent colour palette. The same colours that brightened up her skin.

Tonight, Arman came earlier than usual. When Parisa turned around, for the first time, she saw the massive bruise on his cheekbones from the moment she had bashed her head against his. He seemed unbothered and dull as always. Parisa couldn't help but look away. She didn't want to face her murderer just yet. Instead, she continued to look at the stars. Maybe they would help her. Maybe they won't. Either way, her story needed to end right here.

"I am here to fulfill your wishes, Parisa," he spoke her name ever so soft. One thing Parisa was right about was this being hard for him. He killed every day, and every day he didn't care about it. So why was this one so different? Why was killing the girl with the caramel eyes so different?

"You know, I never thought I would meet someone with such a cold heart," she granted herself the power to confess. He knew that reaction. He had heard those same words over and over again. He had heard them so many times, he could write them with his eyes closed.

"Why did you volunteer Parisa?" he asked, sounding a little more serious now. But she just smiled at him. A smile so painful, the stars wept about it.

"Some things are better kept than said," she replied, looking away once more. And so, she shut her eyes, taking her last full breath. A mouthful of oxygen. A mouthful of reality. Before she could process it, she felt the tip of a dagger aligned with her back.

"Turn around," he commanded. And she obeyed. Now she was facing her murderer. He kept the dagger still, pointing it to her chest, then slowly tilting it and pressing it to her throat. She felt the dagger cut one layer of skin at a time until it was hard for her to continue breathing. He then pushed her against the table, keeping the dagger steady. Parisa, however, moved her hands along the table hoping to find something. Anything. She wasn't ready to die. Not just yet. Until she found it. She found the knife she had used to cut apples with earlier. She clenched her palm around it, carefully moving it closer to herself.

Arman's eyes were deadly and filled with anger. Great, Parisa thought. She needed him to be distracted. A distraction to finish the job. Blood filled Parisa's vision. She wasn't rethinking her decision or trying to convince herself to not murder a man. But instead, the drive of vengeance and death took over.

Ahhh!

A screamed filled the atmosphere. Parisa couldn't tell if it was her scream or Arman's. But once she looked, she saw the very same knife plunged into Arman's stomach. Blood was spilling from the wound onto Parisa's hand. She quickly pulled the dagger out finally realising what she had just done. Terrified, she looked into his teary eyes panicking.

"Oh my god, what have I done?" she yelled at herself. Parisa, the kind naïve soul, had just committed a crime. Arman collapsed onto his knees, and right after him so did Parisa. She wasn't going to let him die. Not like this.

Im sorry.

Im sorry.

Im sorry.

She mouthed repeatedly, apologising to him. He held onto his wound as the blood flowed out. What had she done? As fast as she could she grabbed her shawl, wrapping it around his stomach.

"Keep it still please. I'm not a murderer. Im not going to let you die," she asked him, but the last few words were an assurance to herself. She wasn't a murderer. She couldn't be a murderer.

"A drop of ink spreads fast," he murmured. His eyes were slowly closing but before they could, Parisa slapped his face to wake him back up. She was crying harder than anytime. She wasn't going to let him die. Not like how her brother died.

"Don't you dare close your eyes on me, you prick!" she yelled hoping to keep him awake. She screamed for help, but somehow no one was outside to help. Absolutely no one. No one came to rescue them. Now it was all on her. I'll do it myself, she decided. From the corner of the room, she picked up the sewing needle Azin used to sew the falling pearls back onto dress. She then tore one single string from her dress, placing it into the needle hole.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked her, almost a whisper, but she gave no answer, so he decided to trust her, "So the sweet and kind Parisa isn't as kind as she acts. See how easy it is to kill someone?  Anyone can become a murderer my dear," he decided to say instead. Parisa tried so hard to ignore his words. She tried so hard to block her ears from his words. The words created one cut at a time on her skin and opened one wound at a time. So painful to carry yet so easy to make. But he was right. She had almost become a murderer. It was easier than she though, she felt no guilt or pain. Just regret. She could easily leave him like this and put an end to this fight. After all every story had an ending. But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to put an end to someone's live, no matter how it changed her own.

"Hold still, don't move, okay?" she reassured him with a silent nod. Her hands were shaking in fear, but she needed to stich him up and this was the only way. She carefully pushed the needle into his skin making the first stich. He didn't move. He didn't flinch. He just kept still. In minutes, his wound was completely stitched up. They both let out a sigh of relief and once more dawn arrived. Parisa leaned on the table beside her, knowing she survived another day. That was when Parisa realised Arman had been laying on her lap, resting his head. She quickly looked away pretending she didn't notice. But he noticed. He noticed everything about her. He noticed her eyes. He noticed the way she laughed. He noticed her fear. He noticed every single feature about her. He noticed it all.